


Always the Answer

by NailStrafer



Category: Gran Turismo series
Genre: Joyful, Racing, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NailStrafer/pseuds/NailStrafer
Summary: Whatever you are asking, the answer is always Miata.





	Always the Answer

**(Gran Turismo 6 soundtrack - Garage Theme - YouTube)**

I can't see a cloud in the sky, as the sun pours down its harsh glare on the windshield of my Pontiac G8 GT. Annoyed, I reach into the glovebox and put on some shades, turning the light level down to an acceptable level. I wipe a hand across my brow, pushing away some of the sweat. God, it's hot today, and these white warehouses lining the road are reflecting the sunlight back in my face too. It won't matter much longer though.

I pull into a parking lot beside one of the buildings, stopping next to a garage door. Slipping out of the Pontiac, I step over to a keypad and type in a combination. The garage door rolls upwards with a pleasant hum, revealing darkness inside. I smile, loving how this door opening slowly builds the anticipation for what I'm about to see inside. This industrial sector may not be pretty, but I'm about to get a good look at some eye candy anyway.

Inside the door, a bank of light switches waits for me. I sweep my hand across them, flipping them all over together. The lights flicker on as the electricity hits them, revealing what I came to see: cars, lots and lots of cars. One hundred and thirty three to be precise. I strut across the concrete floor, my footsteps echoing back in the high-ceilinged room. Dust swirls underfoot, considering it's been a while since I've visited this place. I'm in no rush, taking a sedate pace so I have time to admire the beautiful sheet metal all around me.

The Caterham Seven Fireblade waits in one corner, colored in a subtle shade of British Racing Green. It's hard to miss between the long nose, the circular headlights, and the tubular roll cage. It looks like something from the fifties or sixties, yet this particular car has a model year of 2002. In fact, the Seven has been in production since 1973 (the fifties if you count the original Lotus Seven) but the body barely changed in all that time. Well, why fix what isn't broken? I've upgraded mine up to over four hundred horsepower and used it against race cars with more than six hundred or seven hundred horsepower. That sounds crazy, but with the car weighing under four hundred kilograms, it sips fuel and corners like a house fly. Compare to those thirsty, heavy race cars that need to brake very early for turns and spend a lot more time getting gas in the pits, while I wave at them as I pass by.

Proceeding onwards, I spot the Red Bull X1, the machine looking alien next to the more traditional vehicles in storage. When it was introduced in the fifth iteration of the Gran Turismo series as the X2010 it was the One Car to Rule Them All, dominating all other competitors on the track, even Formula 1 cars. Enclosed glass cockpit, full cowling covering the tires for low air resistance, adaptive aerodynamics, and fans to remove air from beneath the car, thus letting it stick to the track at all times like it was on rails. Whenever I got inside it, I was awed by its power and agility, suddenly feeling more like I was driving an F-Zero racer. Fitting, considering it looks like something from outer space. I always got a little bit scared getting behind this wheel, and could never match Sebastian Vettel's times with it. But what an incredible machine it is. I worked hard to get that car, but the first time I drove it I knew all of my blood, sweat, and tears had been well spent.

Other exotic cars pass my sight. The 1987 RUF CTR Yellow Bird stands out with its striking racing yellow paint job. Very tail happy car. Will swing on you like a pendulum if you are not careful with the throttle. There is a reason its base car—the Porsche 911—is referred to as the Widowmaker. While the Yellowbird is very cool, the extra power tends to enhance the donor car's dangerous characteristics. The elusive Lamborghini NOMAD Diablo GT-1 is in the corner. I remember it being frustratingly being hard to get in the third occurrence of the GT series, so I feel blessed to have it now. Moving along, I spot a parking spot that seems empty. Frowning, I move a little closer, then laugh when I see what's there. It's my little Gran Turismo PDI Racing Kart 100. When I found out we were going to get karts in Gran Turismo in the fifth iteration, I thought it was silly. Kart racing is for Mario Kart, I thought. Then I tried the new karting event. I've know now karts are surprisingly fun to drive, and dare I say it...the real thing is even more fun than Mario Kart in some ways.

All of these are the fruits of my long years of labor as a race car driver. Labor's not the right word though. Maybe some of the races ended up being more of a chore than others (like the Citroën 2CV series...), although I wouldn't have stuck around for this long if it didn't feel like so much fun. But I'm not here to drive any of these vehicles. No. I'm back here again to revisit a different car. One that is very special to me.

Walking past the last few dozen cars, I see it. A white cover is over it, dust tinging the fabric more of a brownish gray. Wiping one particular spot, I see the swooping wings of Mazda's Flying "M" logo. With a grin, I pull the cover back, revealing the vehicle underneath. It's a small convertible, 2001 model year, and painted in Classic Red. The headlights are yellowing, the ragtop is developing some holes, and there are white pockmarks in the paint from where rocks have struck it, but even so seeing this old girl again brings a grin to my face. When I was starting out in this fifth season, this is the car I decided to begin with: the second generation Mazda Miata MX-5. The Miata is small and lacking in speed given Mazda has been reluctant to give it more power over the years. And it's not a unique car, given it's the best-selling sports car of all time with over a million sold. That makes it the beige Toyota Corolla of sports cars.

But even so, this is _my_ Miata, and without it I would have never had acquired any of the other cars I walked past. It was the answer to my question, just as it always is to everyone else asking 'What's a good, cheap sports car?' It got me through my first few races, which earned me money, which let me buy better cars, which let me participate in more lucrative races, which earned me more money, which let me buy better cars, and so on and so forth until today. Thus, this car built this place. For that reason, it is still one of the most important cars in this room, and that is why it is special to me.

Outside, another vehicle pulls up. I spot a pickup truck backing up an enclosed trailer to the warehouse's entrance. Once it's in place, the truck driver gets out and walks over to me, a smile on his face.

"So which of these bad boys are we taking out today?" he smirks, a pleasant American South twang in his voice.

I point at the Miata.

" _That_ one?" He raises his eyebrows. "Really? When you've got all this other stuff here?"

"Yes, that one." I sigh.

The driver gives me a weird look, probably thinking me crazy for not taking out one of my Formula 1 cars instead. Couldn't blame him, since he'll never get to drive any of these cars in his lifetime. "Well, okay. You're the boss." He gives me a nod, pulling out a huge ring of keys to search for the Miata's. "Where are we taking this hotrod?"

Good question. Maybe I could take it up to Midfield raceway, enjoy the road as it twists through the hills and underneath the cliffs. Or perhaps Laguna Seca… Bet the Miata would be fun going through the famous corkscrew turn. However, with this car's lack of power, I don't think a wide open race track would be the most fun place to go. Perhaps something more technical, more compact. Something a little more autocross-like, where it's all about the cornering and energy conservation. Maybe an urban city track? I ponder my options. Rome? Tokyo? Madrid? Hmm….how about one of the Special Stage urban circuits? Most of them have a nice rhythm of turns.

"Special Stage Route 5."

"One of the classic GT circuits huh? Like your taste. Let's go."

~X~

That night, we're pulling the truck into the course's pit area. It's positioned on a highway bridge passing through the middle of a city's commercial district. Tall glass buildings stretch overhead, their lights twinkling in the darkness like jewels. No stars are visible in the sky due to ambient light from the skyscrapers and the street lights. I scan the course, noting everything is in place and ready. The appropriate highway routes and streets are blocked off, traffic has been redirected, pit crews and support staff are in place, and emergency vehicles are ready if anything goes wrong out there. But I get the feeling I won't need them. I never have needed them before; they're like decoration to me now.

No other racers are here and not a soul is in the grandstands, so I've got the track to myself tonight. Amazing what kind of power and money the GT association has to block off this entire course for one person. I'm glad those guys have this kind of pull. Before this, I'd pay forty five dollars to go to an autocross meet, which consisted of five minutes total of racing and then spending the rest of the day picking up cones…

My truck driver opens the back of his trailer, unloading the Miata within a few minutes. He probably thinks its funny this old Miata with over a hundred thousand miles is getting babied so much, but again he's not complaining since I'm paying him for it. A safety steward stops by to run through a checklist on the car, opening the hood and trunk to inspect everything and make sure this car is okay to go out on the track. Finishing up his inspection, he gives me a thumbs up and walks away.

I smile, looking at my little red roadster. It's time.

I open the door, hand on the glass to push it open. With how low this car is, you need a special technique to sit inside it without making the process look ungainly. I slip my butt into the seat first, pivot to the right, swinging my legs over the threshold. Slamming the door shut, I put my left foot on the clutch, slipping the key into the ignition. With a twist of the key, the old one point eight liter four cylinder comes to life, the custom muffler on the back enhancing the sound. I grasp the steering wheel, taking a moment to enjoy the deep throaty tone coming out of the muffler. Grabbing the helmet in the seat next to me, I latch it around my head.

For one last touch, I undo two latches mounted to the top of the windshield. With one arm, I throw the entire top backwards. Now the roof of my car is the night sky above, giving me hundreds of miles of head clearance. I pause for a moment to take in the ambience. Traffic and police sirens can be heard from the nearby open roads. Announcements come over the track's P.A. system. The small engine in front of me hums softly at idle. I can smell the exhaust from the car, and the oil coming up from the road surface that was baking all day on the sun. It amazes me how even though I've had this car for years, it still always feels like an occasion whenever I take it out for a drive. Like every time I get inside I'm about to go on a grand adventure somewhere. Let's hope I make some more new memories tonight.

Pushing out of neutral and into first gear, I turn the car towards the pit exit and head out onto the track. The first lap I take it easy. I want to get the tires warmed up, listen for squeaks and rattles, and make sure there are no little gremlins the safety stewards missed. The car sounds like it's doing fine, and that's what I expect. Despite their cute appearance, Mazda built these little convertibles to last. Smiling, I look up from the car's gauges as I approach the course's final turn. Now I can get serious.

I exit the corner, entering the main stretch where the pits and finish line are located. Flooring it for the first time, the tachometer climbs rapidly, the little four cylinder howling to life in response. I shift up into fourth, and soon I'm in the car's fifth gear, the top gear. The Miata's shifter handle is about the size of a golf ball, and easily fits in my hand as I row it back and forth through the gears. It's such a good feeling. The engine howls as we fly down the straight. With the top lowered, the wind whips past my shoulders, rustling the fabric on my shirt underneath the seat belt. Even so, the car struggles to reach one hundred miles per hour. The X2010 could easily pass two hundred miles per hour here, but the Miata has its own ways of being entertaining.

In most cars, the emphasis is on isolating you from outside elements. Weather, noise, smells, temperature, and so on must be minimized on the car's occupants. You are made to feel as if you're in a living room on wheels, secure in your little bubble of metal and glass. Miata doesn't work that way. You will experience every sensation of driving, and you will love it. With the top off, these feelings are enhanced. It makes you think like you're going faster than you really are. Yes, it's an illusion, but there aren't many cheap cars that can pull off such a trick.

At the end of the main straight, the first corners approach: the road turns to the right, turning to the left into a tunnel. Thus the two corners create a chicane, also known as a serpentine curve or S-bend. I tap the brake, downshifting into third as I do so. The road dips down as I enter the chicane, my stomach flowing downwards for a moment too. Now the road is curving to the left, my stomach settling back into a place in an unpleasant feeling, kind of like a small version of the sensation you get on the first hill of a rollercoaster. No time to focus on that though, as I enter the tunnel.

The entire tunnel is a long left sweeper, and a test of how much speed your car can hold while traveling around a long corner. I decide to floor it and find out what the Miata's capable of. In third gear, the car is holding steady near the inside guardrail, the speedometer steadily climbing. I may be able to get around this turn with my foot to the floor. It's one of the benefits of having an underpowered car. But as I get comfortable, I see I'm drifting towards the outside, the outer wall of the tunnel looming larger in my sight. My eyes widen, as I let off the gas, the car turning back inwards. Looks like on the next lap I may need to delay my apex, wait a little bit longer before I floor it. Could probably use better tires too.

Reaching the tunnel's exit, I emerge back into the night air. An artificial pond borders the track on the right, a large park beyond that. To my left, a man-made rock wall towers above me. The road narrows, becoming more technical as it winds alongside the water. From my memory, I recall there is a right hander, followed up by a left hairpin and then a slight right. It's a good test of your ability to follow a racing line. Take the wrong line and you'll need to slow down to avoid hitting the guardrail, losing valuable seconds. There's no runoff in most of these urban circuits.

Miatas were designed for winding roads like this though, so I'm all smiles right now. I tap the brakes as the first right hander approaches, tagging my apex late so I can be set up on the right side of the track in preparation for the hard left. Pushing hard on the brake, I downshift to second, swinging the wheel hard left for the hairpin. I sense the G-forces pulling me to the right, threatening to yank me out of my seat. Not good! Grimacing, I cling for dear life to the steering wheel, bracing my knee against the central console. With a grunt, I manage to hold myself in place as the car cleared the turn.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I forgot what it's like to drive a car fast with a stock interior. Since the factory seats and seatbelts are designed for everyday comfort rather than track days, they don't lock you in place as much as a proper racing seat with side bolstering and more belts. While seating may not be as cool or as exciting as an engine upgrade, it is a small detail that cannot be overlooked for high speed racing. You can't control the car if you're falling out of your chair after all.

With that little adventure done, the road turns away from the pond, and back into the maze of skyscrapers. Winding through another chicane, the car winds right, making a descent downwards to the surface level streets. At the bottom another slight left hander waits, eager to catch out people who are not prepared after the descent beforehand. Fortunately, I have driven this track many times before, so I know it's coming. It's not too different from the first chicane at the start of the track.

I repeat the same procedure, tapping the brake before I descend, turning to the right and quickly swinging to the left as the road bottoms out. My stomach does its brief freefall again, but this time I'm ready and so it doesn't bother me as much. The road ascends upwards, the Miata's little engine groaning a bit as it deals with the hill. One of the things I don't like about this car. It is hard to pass on uphill sections like this. I hold it in third gear so it has the right power band to work with.

Cresting the hill, I spot a wall of black and yellow chevrons in front of me, indicating to the left. Distance signs hover above the track on the right, indicating in meters how much further away the hairpin is. Two hundred meters, one hundred fifty meters, one hundred meters… The course's tightest hairpin turn is coming up, and this one is much more severe than the one by the pond. I will need to time my braking, turning and acceleration with care.

I push my brakes once I reach the fifty-meter mark, downshifting to second. The tires squeal back at me, indicating I'm pushing a little too hard. I ease back up, the car's engine winding down from the sudden deceleration. But I've braked a little too late, and I'm headed for the outer wall. The yellow and black barrier fills the windscreen. I push harder on the brakes. I'm able to slow down in time, but I've missed the optimal line, coming much further to the outside of the turn than I wanted to. Well, so much for this lap's time. I wheel the car to the left, pushing down on the gas.

But now I can feel the right rear tire vibrating beneath me, howling underneath its strain. The back end is coming out from behind me, the car's nose rotating towards the inner barrier, the tires struggling to stay in contact with the road. Too much gas! I ease back off the throttle, countersteering to the right. The correction works, the car assuming a neutral stance between understeer and oversteer as we proceed further down the track.

I grumble under my breath. First I missed the hairpin's apex, then in my frustration I accelerated too hard out of the bend and almost put the car into a deadly slide into the wall. Remember what I said about needing to be careful with my timing on braking, turning, and accelerating? Well, I sure bungled all three of those, didn't I? I'll need to figure out a better approach for my next lap. But that's okay. Making mistakes and figuring out what you can do different or better next time is all a part of chasing those faster lap times after all.

Exiting the hairpin, the road turns right onto a city street, as I shift back up into third. A fancy boutique is on my left, the red awnings standing out above the windows hawking the luxury goods beneath. Purses, jewelry, and fashionable coats. Heh, I bet the owners aren't too fond of a road race going right past their shop, only a small guard rail protecting their outer wall from the roaring race cars, but what can they do? The GT association just has that much power.

Turning right at the next intersection, the street dips downwards into a brief underpass, before popping back up into a public space. Trees covered with yellow lights line the track, making for a dazzling display. I can't focus on that though, as the road demands my attention. Another chicane is here, but after my practice on the earlier chicane sections I pass through it without thinking much about it. The final turn is upon me, the road a broad right sweeper while also turning upwards. Another test of how good my Miata is at holding speed in a constant radius turn.

Remembering the lesson the left hand tunnel sweeper taught me, I decide to take this one a little bit slower, figure out where the limit is rather than push the boundaries. The car holds steady in third gear, the lower gear necessary due to the extra strain of going uphill while turning. As I crest the top of the uphill section, the grandstands lining the main straight come into sight, the tents marking the pit area behind them. I floor it, the whiny four cylinder howling again as I shift into fourth and then fifth, the Miata vibrating around me as it crosses one hundred miles per hour again. I smirk. I might like this car, but yeah… Sometimes I do wish for more power.

I cross the line, the pit crew giving me my lap time. Not bad, but could be better. But no time to dwell on that. Now we're on lap two, and I need to work on fixing the mistakes I made in the first lap.

The first chicane approaches again, the mouth of the left hand sweeper tunnel beyond that. Remembering where I braked on the first time through, I decide to try braking a little bit later, see how long I can go without pushing on the pedal. Entering the left hand sweeper in the tunnel, I have a better idea of what speed I can take the car through the turn, toeing the line right up to where I can keep the car on the optimal racing line. When I get to the city streets and reach the sharp second gear hairpin, this time I'm able to time my braking better, tag the apex smoothly, and accelerate out in a coordinated fashion, exiting the turn with considerably more speed.

Finishing my second lap, I check my time as I pass over the line again, realizing I've shaved off two seconds. Good, but I know I can do better. I prepare for my third lap, again using lessons I've learned on the previous two laps to gradually get faster and faster, look for places where I can save more time. Before long I am able to cut off as many as eight to ten seconds off my first lap time, a large improvement. It's like I never stopped driving this car. The steady decrease in time inspires me to push it harder and harder with each successive lap, as I learn more and more about the most efficient way to clear each turn and how far I can push things before the car loses control. It's an intoxicating feeling, and I'm lost in a trance.

With the MX-5's lightweight, barebones nature, racing this car energizes you. It always wants you to go faster and faster, drive it further and further, take it over the next hill and the one after that. Mazda engineers designed the MX-5 under the philosophy of _jinba ittai_ , which roughly translates from Japanese into 'horse and rider as one' in English. You and the car should be in perfect harmony, the vehicle like an extension of your body. Tonight, it's the feeling I have with my own Miata. The faster I go, the more the car fades from my consciousness, to the point where I become unaware of the car. It's part of what makes the Miata such a popular car amongst automotive enthusiasts, in addition to its huge value factor. You'll struggle to find any other cars so communicative, so driver focused, so much _fun_ in this price range.

But before long I notice my times going back up, the car's tires not gripping the road as well as before. All of that hard work has worn them out significantly, heated them up too much and degraded the rubber. The car feels sloppy, and I find myself sliding around a lot more, leaving more tire marks on the pavement and sending up more smoke.

Still, I keep going, not wanting to return back to the pits and end the fun. The hairpin right before the boutique approaches once more. I brake at what I think is the right time and turn the wheel, but a chill runs down my back. Something is wrong, the world seeming to stand still for a moment. What's happening? I notice it now. I sense a vibration from the right rear tire again, increasing in intensity as the rubber skipping sideways across the pavement. The car is going to spin out. Instinctively, I turn the wheel to the right to countersteer, but I'm too late. I didn't catch the slide in time. The colors outside are blurring sideways, flowing into one another like I'm looking at an abstract art piece. All four tires howl as the car spins around. I can't tell what's going on outside, the world moving too fast.

But as quickly as it started, it's over, the car grinding to a halt and the engine cutting out due to a stall. My heart is pounding, my breaths short. I'm looking at the steering wheel, afraid to look out the window and see where I ended up. Tentatively, I raise my eyes, thinking I see a figure in a dress in front of me. Whoa, did I almost hit someone?! I leap out of the car, snatching my helmet off.

But I look up, realizing my car came to rest right in front of the boutique. The 'woman' in the dress is only a mannequin in the window. I turn around, looking at the tire tracks left behind. Judging by their pathways, I ended up doing a complete three sixty before coming to rest here. Wow. That could have been a lot worse.

"Are you okay?" I hear the track marshall say over the car's radio. "That was pretty scary to watch."

I jump back in the car, picking up the radio. "No, I-I'm fine. But….I think I'm done for the night."

"Hah, don't blame you. You know you've been out here for a couple hours right? Dawn's almost here."

"Holy crap, lost track of time." I check the car's clock, gasping when I see what time it is. "Anyway, I'm coming back in. Get my crew to start packing up."

"Roger."

Pulling back into the pits, I wheel the car over to my waiting truck, the truck driver and I quickly getting it loaded back up. Soon it's in the rear compartment, the loading ramp extended upwards. Before we close off the rear door, I take one more last look around the city surrounding the track. The sky to the east is turning pink, hinting at the rising sun approaching. Jeez, were we really out here so late? Feels like we only just got here. Ah well…time flies when you're having fun.

"Nate, are you ready to go?" The driver asks. "Close the back door, would you?"

"Okay." I step over to a pad next to the truck's rear compartment, pushing a red button. The sliding door closes, concealing the Miata from view.

Even though I'll be seeing it again soon, I can't help but take a fond look at my little red roadster whenever it's about to leave my sight. After it clamps shut, I'm climbing back into the truck's cab. Within minutes we're on the highway, headed back to my car storage down the highway as the sun rises into the sky. Yeah… That car definitely is the answer to everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, looks like this is going to be the first Gran Turismo fic on AO3 :) Haha, I'm not too surprised though, given that the GT section on fanfiction dot net only has seven fics, including this one. Anyway, I'll be surprised if anyone reads and reviews this story, given how out there it is for the average fanfic reader.


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